“Now, look here, don’t you make no mistake; but you jump out as soon as I get close in, and go and ask for four pen’orth o’ bread and cheese. I’ll row out again and wait till you come.”
Dexter did not like the task, and he could not help thinking of the pleasant breakfast at the doctor’s, but recalling the fact that a fortune was not to be made without a struggle, he prepared to land.
“But I haven’t got any money,” he said. “No, you haven’t got any money,” said Bob sourly, as he tucked one oar under his knee, so as to get his hand free to plunge into his pocket. “There you are,” he said, bringing out sixpence. “Look sharp.”
Dexter took the money, leaped ashore, and walked up to the little public-house, where a red-faced woman waited upon him, and cut the bread and cheese.
“Well,” she said, looking wonderingly at her customer, “don’t you want no beer!”
Dexter shook his head, lifted up his change, and hurried out of the place in alarm, lest the woman should ask him any more questions.
But she did not attempt to, only came to the door to watch the boy as he went back to the boat, which was backed in so that Dexter could jump aboard; but Bob, whose eyes were looking sharply to right and left in search of danger, just as a sparrow scrutinises everything in dread while it is eating a meal, managed so badly in his eagerness to get away, that, as Dexter leaped in, he gave a tug with the sculls, making the boat jerk so sharply that Dexter’s feet began to move faster than his body, and the said body came down in a sitting position that was more sudden than agreeable.
“Well, you are a fellow!” cried Bob, grinning. “Any one would think you had never been in a boat before.”
Dexter gathered together the portions of food which had been scattered in the bottom of the boat, and then sat looking ruefully at his companion.
“If any of that there’s dirty, you’ve got to eat it,” said Bob sourly. “I shan’t.”